


Definitions of Duty

by WerewolvesAreReal



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Book 2: Throne of Jade, Gen, Protective Aviators, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 16:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17307944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WerewolvesAreReal/pseuds/WerewolvesAreReal
Summary: Granby thinks he could have shot Barham and Admiral Lenton would have defended his decision, however unsuccessfully. He half-wishes he’d done it, except that Laurence would have fussed something horrible and probably taken responsibility for that too.(Granby's perspective of the scene in Throne of Jade when Laurence is knocked unconscious)





	Definitions of Duty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Borrowed_Voices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Borrowed_Voices/gifts).



> Some dialogue taken directly from the book

In 1801 Granby had been freshly promoted to lieutenant when Fluitare’s captain, Sommer, was shot in the shoulder during a bout.

He still remembers the whole crew surging forward, the ferocity of first-lieutenant Jonson as the man flung away his carabiners to run pell-mell down Fluitare’s back, stumbling in the fierce wind. If Fluitare had reacted to the shouts, twisting to look around as anxious dragons often did, the lieutenant would have fallen. But Fluitare was a veteran and flew steady. Jonson ended up bodily launching himself at a Frenchman and throwing him, kicking and flailing, over the dragon’s shoulder and down toward the sea below.

Captain Sommer thanked the lieutenant, then called him a damn idiot and ordered him to retrieve his carabiners.

It is the primary duty of every aviator to protect their captain. A dead captain might cause a dragon to go wild with grief; an unconscious captain will make a beast panic. And afterward a dragon torn with despair may well reject all company, and thereafter be sent straight to the breeding grounds for a dull and useless life of misery.

But whenever Captain Laurence is threatened Granby never thinks of Temeraire – he remembers that desperate charge on Fluitare, the flung carabiners. He thinks of this now when he sees a Frenchman cut himself free from Temeraire’s harness, lunging toward Laurence in a cruel parody of Lieutenant Jonson’s selfless act.

Granby struggles in the direction of Temeraire’s neck, where Laurence has drawn his sword to engage the Frenchman. But there is no room here for a bold charge; there are too many boarders, and Temeraire’s crew is composed greatly of young officers. Granby fumbles for a pistol with his left hand and shoots almost distractedly when he sees a man threatening young Roland with a sword,  holding his own blade with his free hand. He has no attention to spare for the rest of the fighting.

Up front Laurence stumbles, staring at his weapon in shock. A chunk of it is missing, and, blast – is the man fighting with a dress-sword?

Granby unlatches his carabiners.

 _“You damn idiot,”_ he hears Captain Sommer scold. Laurence will probably disapprove, too. He may chastise Granby all he wants if survives.

Granby reaches the front in time to cut down a rifleman flanking the French lieutenant, shoving the body over Temeraire’s side. Behind Granby six bellman swarm forward onto the top, threatening the other boarders. Granby didn’t realize anyone was behind him.

The lieutenant up front makes a last, desperate attempt to capture Laurence before being knocked out by young Digby. Granby finally lets himself sheathe his sword, pushing forward to check Laurence, when suddenly the world seems to flip sideways.

Men shout as a huge body crashes into Temeraire – a Pecheur making a rash bid to support the boarders. One of the French wingmen, unfortunately in the midst of repositioning, slips away soundlessly and disappears into the air. Granby finds himself on his knees clinging desperately to the harness-straps. He stumbles to his feet seconds later and looks up.

Laurence lies limp on Temeraire’s neck, body sliding from one side to the next as Temeraire readjusts. Only the carabiners hold him in place, and even from a distance Granby can see a bloom of blood spreading about his collar, one leg bent awkwardly in the straps.

“Temeraire!” he shouts. The dragon’s head twitches as Temeraire swerves, evidently positioning himself to tackle the Pecheur. “Temeraire, Laurence has been hurt!”

This, as intended, distracts the dragon from his outrage. “Hurt?”

“We must return to the covert!” Granby shouts. He can see Keynes working toward the front, but waves the man forward anyway, uselessly. “We must return, do you understand? You must disengage.”

Temeraire drops suddenly to avoid another pass from the Pecheur, angling himself at once toward the shore. Behind them the Pecheur slows as though considering its course; then it wheels away, flying quickly toward the other fighting dragons to lend its support.

Granby reaches Laurence at last in the company of Keynes. The dragon-surgeon  _tsks_ under his breath, nudging Laurence’s head from one side to the other. “He was crushed when the dragon knocked into Temeraire; hit his head, it seems. And I don’t like the look of that leg. I will tell the men to retrieve a stretcher when we land, but I must fetch a few supplies. I don’t plan for human injuries, you know.”

Temeraire lands in his clearing with great haste, craning his neck around as soon as his legs hit the ground. “Well?” the dragon demands. “Is he well?”

Before Granby can respond, though, they are interrupted.

Somehow in all the fuss Granby did not even notice the unusual number of people as they descended into Temeraire’s clearing; did not note the splash of red and blue coats among the crowd. Now one man shoves himself forward, carrying a gun; he brandishes it up at Temeraire’s outraged face and seems pitifully small. “You damn beast!” the man roars. A navy admiral. Why the hell is a navy admiral in the covert, Granby thinks, and abruptly remembers the idiotic mess with the Chinese. Temeraire is not supposed to be here. “You will not move, you will not fly from this spot - Captain Laurence! Captain Laurence, if you do not present yourself immediately, you will be charged not just with this  _blatant_ insuburdination, but for conspiracy to mutiny - “

“You will not charge Laurence with anything,” Temeraire bristles.

“Oh, hell,” Granby says. “Keynes, go get your bandages and whatever else, and do it quickly. Baylesworth, find a stretcher for the captain. Mr. Riggs, Mr. Martin, with me! Roland, go find Lenton, hurry now - “

Admiral Barham seems only more furious when Granby descends to meet with him. “I swear to you,” he begins, “If Captain Laurence resists arrest we shall use force - “

“Good god, man, shut up,” Granby snaps. “Captain Laurence is injured, and you must wait to see him - “

But the damage is already done. Temeraire snarls and lowers his head above Granby, his blood-smeared ruff flaring wide.

The admiral takes a few steps back, face mottling red. He roars, “You will control that beast, lieutenant! All of you will stand down!” To his men: “Retrieve Captain Laurence!”

“No, sir,” Granby snaps. These idiots are likely to get everyone killed if they try to reach Laurence, and the last thing Laurence needs is to be dragged half-lucid before the admiralty. “No farther, not one damned step. Temeraire, if these men make ready you may knock them down.”

He says this because he fears Temeraire will do worse, if they restrain him. Not that he would blame the dragon – Granby is ready to shoot Barham himself.

And certainly the stupid man is prepared to tempt him. Granby cannot understand how Laurence came from the same background that shaped this flailing, spitting farce of an officer. Laurence matches this man only in sheer bull-headed stubbornness – a trait Granby despairs when he notices his captain, white-faced and heavily supported by Digby and Allen, limping toward the group.

Barham sees him, too, but dismisses the obvious injuries. “There you are; did you think you could hide here, like a coward? Stand down that animal at once; Sergeant, go there and take him.“

"You are not to come anywhere near Laurence, at all,” Temeraire snarls. The dragon raises a clawed leg. Granby has seen such postures from dragons – has seen a usually mellow Pascal’s Blue kill a man for just insulting her captain, much less threaten him. If the streaks of blood around Temeraire’s head do not instill Barham with proper wariness than the man deserves his fate.

But Granby is more concerned about Laurence. The captain sways on his feet despite the support of Digby and Allen. As Temeraire argues with Laurence – making it plain that he will allow no one to arrest his captain, or execute him, or any such thing – Granby impulsively gestures to the other crewmen.

He feels a surge of pride when they respond immediately. Ferris, Evans, Riggs and all the rifleman line up in front of Temeraire with their guns aimed at Barham’s marines. Granby keeps his own rifle trained straight at Barham. Temeraire is more of a threat than any of his officers, of course, but Granby would blush if he made an injured dragon defend himself against these morons.

And quite frankly, he is  _itching_ to put a bullet in the admiral.

The marines hurry to raise their own weapons, several of them fussing over the feeble cannon that they apparently thought could be used to menace a heavy-weight dragon. Granby’s fingers tighten around the gun. Barham shows no signs of backing down, and Granby is seconds away from giving the order when suddenly their stand-off is interrupted.

“What the devil do you all mean here?” Keynes shouts. He shoves between the confused marines, snatching a match from the man standing to light the cannon.

Granby slowly lowers his gun as the surgeon berates them. The rest of the men follow his lead. “He is fresh from the field; have you all taken leave of your senses? ….Out, out at once, the lot of you; I cannot be operating in the middle of this circus, and as for you, lie down again at once; I gave orders you were to be taken straight to the surgeons. Christ only knows what you are doing to that leg, hopping about on it. Where is Baylesworth with that stretcher?“

Granby is grateful that his hand is far from the trigger when Barham replies. “Laurence is damned well under arrest, and I have a mind to clap the rest of you mutinous dogs into irons also - “

Keynes shakes his hook-tipped fist in the admiral’s face, startling him into silence. “You can arrest him in the morning, after that leg has been seen to, and his dragon. Of all the blackguardly, unchristian notions, storming in on wounded men and beasts - “

The haranguing serves its purpose, at least. Barham does leave, fury evident in every step. But Laurence is supremely distressed - more distressed than the mere injury would warrant, for Granby deeply suspects that Laurence is not concerned about his broken leg at all.

The crisis over, Keynes attends to Temeraire’s scratches while Laurence is brought, unwillingly, to the sickroom for his leg to be scrutinized. He makes matters more difficult by disdaining the stretcher, though honestly Granby expected that. Mr. Evans, being abnormally tall, helps support him and keep the man from mangling his body further.

The surgeons seem puzzled by the captain’s injuries, which does not please Granby; Laurence also refuses an offer of laudanum, which is almost worse. The captain is left with strict instructions to not put weight on his leg, after which he asks Granby for assistance to his rooms.

Granby walks him there despite Laurence’s shaking, and pretends not to notice when Laurence has to stop, halfway up the front stairs of the building, to brace himself against the wall. When they arrive at his quarters Laurence throws open the door and limps inside, plainly expecting him to follow.

Granby closes the door.

“I am sorry that you have all been caught in this mess,” says Laurence. Granby, who only anticipated a rebuke for his earlier insubordination, is caught off-guard. Laurence looks infinitely weary. “First the Chinese, and now this… I assure you that I will approach Admiral Lenton to plead for leniency on the crew’s behalf. I cannot condone your actions, Lieutenant; you ought not have contradicted Barham’s orders, and I am sure you know it. But I will try to explain the circumstances.”

Granby shakes his head. Laurence does not understand that the Navy has no authority over aviators – or, rather, that the Corps will not  _let_ them have any authority. Imagine navy-men trying to arrest every dragon that threw a hissy-fit during wartime. It would be chaos. The aviators only pretend to obey foreign officers on small matters because otherwise the admirals might complain and the Corps could face considerable pressure.

In any case, Granby thinks he could have shot Barham and Admiral Lenton would have defended his decision, however unsuccessfully. He half-wishes he’d done it, except that Laurence would have fussed something horrible and probably taken responsibility for that too.

Granby watches as Laurence collapses onto his bed, tugging uselessly at his cravat before deciding the effort is too much; he lays back with a faint grimace instead. Granby makes an aborted motion forward, but he feels Laurence would not appreciate an offer to help.

“Sir,” Granby says at last, because he must say something. “I know it is not what you’d like to hear, but I would not give a damn if they tossed me from the service for this. Admiral Barham was entirely in the wrong, and when the day comes that I must obey such a man then I will leave the Corps myself.”

Laurence looks very pale. It may be the blood-loss, or the man’s injured head; perhaps he is just horrified at Granby’s temerity.

Something in Granby softens. “And I think all the crew would say the same,” he adds, more gently. “But do not fret about us, I beg you. Remember you must meet with Lenton and Barham tomorrow,” though if it were Granby’s decision Laurence would be resting the rest of the week at least.

He halts by the door a moment, but Laurence still says nothing. The poor man looks entirely disoriented. Perhaps he took some of that laudanum after all. Shaking his head, Granby leaves him to rest.

He spends the rest of the night with Temeraire, fielding queries from the crew who all want to know if they should spirit the captain away and damn the consequences. Granby actually considers it – a damn meeting, after an injury like this! – but ultimately he consoles the crew with platitudes and sends them away.

He cannot help but remember Laurence’s bleak voice. “ _I cannot condone your actions,”_ he’d said, “… _But I will try to plead for leniency on your behalf.”_

Granby shakes his head. He will give Laurence no cause for additional worry; he will ensure that the crew are meek and proper as lambs, if only it will comfort the man.

Unless Barham manages to arrest Laurence after all. If that happens -

Well, how hard could it be, to stage a jail-break with the help of a dragon?


End file.
